


Prelude to the Nightmare

by GrumpyJenn



Series: Friends Through Time and Space [2]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/F, Rape/Non-con References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-25
Updated: 2012-06-25
Packaged: 2017-11-08 12:29:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/443203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrumpyJenn/pseuds/GrumpyJenn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How River Song and Evie Jones met.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prelude to the Nightmare

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kerjen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kerjen/gifts), [areyoumarriedriver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/areyoumarriedriver/gifts).



> Because I am a trifle compulsive and it’s been bugging me that two of my series in the same universe have unequal numbers of stories in them, I’m evening them up.

The young (ish) woman who called herself River Song was looking for a good man. Or so she had said when she enrolled at Luna University as a student of archaeology. Her professors took this as hyperbole, or maybe as a metaphor for something else, until she submitted her first paper. It was entitled _A Brief Overview of the Life and Times of the Time Lord Known as the Doctor_ , and it was a prime example of the tantalizingly incomplete knowledge the human race had of the Doctor, the Time Lords, and the planet Gallifrey. Oh, they knew _of_ these things of course - though some said they couldn’t quite remember - but very few people in the fifty-second century knew any of the _facts_. Until River Song wrote her paper, with citation after citation to back up her claims.

River Song’s - for most of her classmates it seemed too casual to simply call her _River_ \- River Song’s professors liked her, and thought of her as a model student. Her peers admired her, usually from afar, because she appeared rather older than most and was a bit... not _standoffish_ precisely... but she definitely liked her privacy. She requested and received a room at the end of a long corridor, and she was rarely seen outside of it except in classes or on archaeological digs. She was friendly enough when you met her in a corridor, but she never visited the usual student haunts of Kronkburger outlets, the public library, or the 3D video parlour. This behaviour sparked some outrageous rumours among the students.

Evie thought perhaps River was simply shy. She would know; not only was she a nearly-qualified psychiatric nurse, but she was used to people making assumptions about other people based solely on their appearance or bearing. Evie herself was small - barely 150 centimetres tall - and freckled and ‘cute’ and although she was twenty-four, most people assumed she was about half that age. So to her mind it was likely that River was shy or simply desired privacy, and unless she proved a danger to someone - or asked for help - Evie wouldn’t pry.

But it turned out that Evie was the one asking for help. If one considered getting rescued from an over-enthusiastic and high-as-a-jump-jet underclassman as ‘asking for help’.

Rape was almost unheard of at Luna University in the fifty-second century. There were too many willing partners - or groups - for rape to have much appeal; even if you liked it rough, or got off on resistance, there was likely _someone_ willing to oblige. And if the young man had _asked_ , Evie would have shagged him herself. But he’d had his first experience with hypervodka, he jumped on her right outside the door at the end of the corridor nearest her room, and she screamed out of surprise more than fear. And then everything happened very fast.

Evie heard a door slam, he was yanked off her and slammed against the door, and a very angry River Song held him there with his feet dangling a few inches above the ground. “What,” River said in a deadly quiet voice, “were you planning to do to her?” The boy was suddenly sober, babbling apologies and sobbing like a baby, he hadn’t meant it, he’d thought she was willing, oh bless he was so _so_ sorry, please don’t hurt me I’ll do anything, and on and _on_ until Evie picked herself up off the ground and approached them, her eyes on River Song’s face. The woman spoke without looking at her, still in that low, furious tone. “What do you want done with him?”

“You can let him go now. I don’t think he’ll be bothering me - or anyone - anymore. _Will you_?” There was steel in Evie’s soft voice as she spared him a single glance, and as River let go of him with a gesture of contempt, he fell at their feet. Still apologising over and over, he scrambled to his feet and ran as fast and as far as he could. Evie watched until he was out of sight and then turned to the older woman. “Thank you,” she said simply, and waited. River shrugged and muttered something that sounded vaguely like _may as well be useful_ , and Evie smiled at her, holding out one hand. “Come on,” she said, “I could use some comfort food. I’m buying. Name your poison.”

“I’d rather not go out anywhere,” said River Song in a quiet voice. “But I’ve got some very good chocolate if you’d like to join me.”

Evie smiled at her. “I’d like that.”

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/- 

The chocolate _was_ very good, and Evie asked the older woman where she’d gotten it. River laughed - Evie had never heard her laugh before - and said, “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” Then she stopped laughing, abruptly, and looked thoughtful. “Or maybe you would,” she said, and deliberately looked Evie over. “You’re a lot more... capable... than I would have thought at first glance. You probably could’ve handled that boy just fine on your own. I assumed you were... helpless in a situation like that one, small as you are. I should know better. I’m sorry.”

Evie swallowed a mouthful of chocolate and smiled at her. “It’s alright,” she said, “because I was just thinking the same thing about you yesterday.” River raised an eyebrow and Evie waved a hand at random. “Not that you don’t look capable, because _capable_ is one of the first words I’d use to describe you.” River looked pleased at this. “But about assumptions... there are a lot of rumours buzzing around you, about why you keep to yourself so much. And it’s none of our business really, until and unless you make it so. Assumptions...” She trailed off, shrugged, and bit off another chunk of chocolate, content to let it melt in her mouth this time.

“It’s...” River hesitated. “It’s a long story. But suffice it to say that I’ve not always had... friends I could trust...” she trailed off, but then she squared her shoulders as though facing something that frightened her, steeling herself for a difficult task. “D’you want the York Notes version of my life, Nurse Jones? I _think_ I could tell you, but it’s... it’s not all _my_ story to tell.”

Evie leaned forward on the sofa and put her hand impulsively over River’s and squeezed. “Only tell me what you’re comfortable telling me,” she said softly. “I get the feeling you’re unused to talking to anyone. I’ll understand if you can’t do it.”

River shook her head slowly. “It’s strange... I feel more comfortable with you than I have with anyone for... well, for a long time. I’m not sure why...”

Evie shrugged. “I’ve just got that kind of face,” she suggested, “and I _am –_ nearly _-_ a psychiatric nurse, so you know anything you say won’t be repeated.”

River took a bite of chocolate and began. “I had a... difficult... early childhood,” she said, and gave a short bark of mirthless laughter. “I can’t really tell you about it except that I was... taken from my parents when I was an infant, but it got better when I met Amy and Rory. We were nine years old. I loved them...” There were tears in River’s eyes now but her voice remained steady. “We... they were really the only friends I’ve ever had... and now they’re gone too, travelling...” Her voice broke at this point and Evie hesitated for a moment, then put her arms around River, holding her as though the older woman was a child. _Oh_ , thought Evie, _she’s so lonely._

River wasn’t crying, not really. Choked up and trembling with emotion, tears in her eyes but not falling. Evie wondered how long it had been since River had let her control slip even as far as she had just now, never mind enough to have a good cathartic cry. Evie was a great believer in the cathartic little cry as a release. Not quite as useful as good sex in her opinion, but certainly a good tool. So she just held the older woman in her arms and rocked them both gently as they sat together on the sofa. When River regained complete control, she sat up and smiled at Evie with wet eyes. “That face you mentioned - the one that invites confidences - it must serve you well in your profession,” she said, and then she leaned forward and kissed Evie chastely on the lips. “Thank you.”

“Any time.”

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/- 

After that things got annoyingly personal for River. It wasn’t Evie who bothered her - Evie was wonderful about taking hints if River wanted to be alone, or just being there if she didn’t. No, the problem was the boy. His corridor-mates had gotten wind of _the situation_ as they’d started calling it, and rather than teasing the boy for being beaten up or chased off by a _girl_ (which is what would have happened in the twenty-first century with children this age), they started in on River and to some extent Evie. _River Song had killed a man_ the rumours went, _and that’s why she never joined in with the other students - she was lying low_. Those who actually _knew_ her scoffed at this, but she had been so much a loner that those people were limited to professors and her one friend. Evie tried to explain the situation and got snubbed as a troublemaker for her pains... after all, if she had just shagged the kid, none of this would have happened, right?

Normally this would merely be annoying for River. After all, what were stupid rumours from adolescents in the grand scheme of things, after all she’d been through? It’s not like _she_ cared what any of them thought. But Evie was a popular and social person, and the unkind rumours - and more specifically the shunning behaviour - they were hurting Evie. She didn’t mention it, she behaved as she always did, but there was an expression of hurt confusion in her eyes. And that River would not tolerate. So she did what she did best, at least in a setting that didn’t involve guns and lipstick. She wrote a paper. The University paper (and yes, they still called it a paper) published a student paper once a lunar cycle, one of her few student supporters was the editor, and he agreed to publish her paper out of turn.

And then the shit hit the fan, as they used to say in the twenty-first. Because the paper was _scathing_. It was titled _Social Immaturity in the Human Race - a Treatise on Honesty, Morals, and Decency through the Ages_ and could more properly be called an anthropological study than an archaeological one, but that didn’t matter to her readers. It called out the most hurtful of the rumour-mongers without identifying _anyone_ by name. It stated that although the morals and views of the twentieth and twenty-first centuries were generally considered by the so-called ‘enlightened’ people of the fifty-second to be outdated at best and barbaric at worst, at least those views were _honest_ in their barbarism. It went on for _pages_ about how in a society designed around tolerance of other people and their beliefs, assigning blame and active shunning of perfectly blameless women simply because one young man couldn’t handle his hypervodka was unacceptable and hypocritical. It even went into how the young man in question had already been dealt with without any permanent damage to anyone, again without naming anyone. The references list spanned three whole pages, including citations running from Freud in the early twentieth through personal interviews with some of the people involved in ‘the recent incident’.

There was a demand for printed copies of the edition of the paper in which this appeared, and that hadn’t happened in over a hundred years. River was a _bit_ concerned when the Dean called her into his office... but he only waved his printed copy of the paper at her and asked mildly if she wouldn’t consider changing her field of study to mob psychology. When she declined, he sighed and asked her where she’d been when he was young.

She didn’t tell him.

When there was a knock at her door that evening, she rolled her eyes. People had been calling her holophone all day until she blocked incoming calls, but this was the first person who’d actually had the temerity to come to her room. _Oh well,_ she thought wryly as she got up to unlock the door, _I guess I brought it on myself._ She wrenched the door open, ready to have a good shout at whoever was there, but sighed in relief when she found that it was Evie. Then she took a closer look at the younger woman and noticed that the blue eyes were swimming with tears. “Oh, _Evie_ ,” she said softly, “Come on in.” But Evie just stood there, looking up at her through tears, and finally River took her hand and led her to the sofa, closing and locking the door behind them. “Now then,” she said, sitting down next to the smaller woman and pulling her in for a hug, “My turn to hold you for a bit is it?” Evie nodded and nestled her head under River’s chin.

They sat like that for a while until Evie said, quietly, “Thank you, River,” and pulled away to look at the older woman. “I know it must seem silly to you, that it means so much to me that people like me, but I... it _hurts_ me when they don’t. Thank you.” And she laid her lips on River’s, not sure how the older woman would react, and her lips trembled slightly at the risk she was taking. If River was offended...

River was not offended. She wasn’t even particularly surprised; Evie was a child of the fifty-second century after all, and although River had no sexual experience in this regeneration, she was by no means an innocent virgin. So she sighed contentedly into Evie’s mouth and murmured, “Shall we move this to the bed, Evie darling?” and then she manoeuvred them around until they lay facing each other across River’s bed. And then it was all stroking of soft skin and breathy sighs and quiet moans until finally they fell asleep, limbs entwined.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/- 

Several weeks later, Evie woke to a strange sound coming through the wall of her room. She’d worked late and slept alone that night, and for a few minutes she couldn’t place the sound; it was so unusual.

Then she placed it. It was the sound of crying, weeping. And it was River. _Oh bless,_ she thought, _River is crying_. Even as close as they were, she had never seen River cry, not really, and _this_ crying - it was heartbroken and frightened and desolate. But River was still reticent, even with her, and so Evie sat quietly in her own room, knees drawn up, weeping silently for her friend until the sobbing subsided on the other side of the wall.

_“No, no, you can’t! Stay away from me! Get **away**!”_

_Alright_ , thought Evie, _that’s enough. Having a little cry a few nights a week is one thing but actual screams of terror, bugger River’s privacy_. She got out of bed and slipped out of her room, knocked softly on River’s door, and entered the room.

 

And a whole new adventure. __

 

 


End file.
